


Of Softness and Filth

by anygay



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Band Fic, Humor, M/M, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21733219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anygay/pseuds/anygay
Summary: Jungwoo supposed he could just ask? Johnny did say that communication was the key. But five or six months in to limbo? Also, how would one go about that? Was text acceptable?Hey, hyungie. I really like what that mouth do. Can we fuck already?
Relationships: Kim Jungwoo/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	Of Softness and Filth

**Author's Note:**

> this is exactly what you think it is; porn without plot that developed a little plot but it's mainly about the awkward smut.

Taeyong was a pretty good kisser.

Although, Jungwoo was willing to admit that it was partially his inexperience that propelled Taeyong to first place in his humble “People I’ve kissed romantically” list. Because sure, in terms of skill, Jungwoo wouldn’t mind a bit more hunger, a bit more… tongue. Especially after five months -- no, six months? How long had it been? Anyway, the point was Jungwoo and Taeyong had been in this limbo for months and theoretically, if milestones still counted,  _ shouldn’t there be more fucking tongue? _

Not that Taeyong didn’t want him. In fact, Taeyong was getting increasingly more daring in the places he’d corner Jungwoo and catch him off guard. It was typical and very cliché, but something about stealing kisses between rehearsals really riled him up. He’d find Jungwoo on his way back to the set, through an empty corridor and just land one on him and then pull away before Jungwoo could catch up.

Then Jungwoo would be left there with his hair all messed up and his cheeks flushed and his entire world upside down while Taeyong walked away, offering him a peace sign in his wake. But Jungwoo felt anything but peace. Those two fingers that Taeyong would hold up? That was what Jungwoo was wrapped around. While most would probably chalk it up to Taeyong’s so-called romantic side, Jungwoo decided that it was pretty goddamn selfish. And what was worse was that it made Jungwoo really fucking horny in the most inopportune moments.

Jungwoo supposed he could just ask? Johnny did say that communication was the key. But five or six months in to limbo? Also, how would one go about that? Was text acceptable?  _ Hey, hyungie. I really like what that mouth do. Can we fuck already? _

It was just a matter of timing. Opportunity finally met preparation when they travelled to Japan. Doyoung, Johnny, Mark, and Haechan were the first to room themselves together because they had a  _ Mobile Legends _ competition or some other. Jungwoo was half asleep when Doyoung -- Taeyong’s usual roommate -- was talking Jungwoo’s ear off regarding the tournament and why it was imperative that he and his teammates stick together in one room. Doyoung liked to play with the sounds coming out of the speakers of his phone – it supported the immersive gameplay – and Taeyong once said that if he were to hear the announcer congratulate Doyoung one more time because he successfully slain an enemy, Taeyong was going to throw his phone out of the window. Doyoung still didn’t know if he was kidding. But he’d rather be safe than sorry.

“But Taeyong hyung said it was fine since you were gonna room with him anyway?”

This was the cold splash of water to Jungwoo’s face that jolted him awake. “He said he wanted to room in with me?”

“He said you talked about it?”

They talked about no such thing. “Oh, right. Yeah.”

Jungwoo had thought about their first time in varying degrees of softness and filth; it just depended on the day. One where Taeyong's eyes would bounce from one member to the next as they arrived at an event -- it had become his habit to do a head count wherever they went as a team -- and he'd always exaggerate looking relieved, hand to his chest, when he'd count Jungwoo last. He usually counted him last. Those were times Jungwoo would imagine looking into Taeyong's eyes as he made love to him. 

Then there would be days when Taeyong would look at him through hooded eyes in the middle of an interview, Taeyong’s hands on some other member’s shoulders. Those shoulders could have been Jungwoo’s, and that grip would grow tighter each time Jungwoo would thrust into him harshly. Or so Jungwoo would like to think as he pressed his lips into a tight smile and looked away. 

The day that they were roommates wasn’t anything to be remembered. They burned through their schedules until their muscles were sore from smiling and standing or sitting, and when Jungwoo was finally alone with Taeyong, he took his time in the shower just making sure that every inch of him was lick-safe. 

Taeyong had changed into pajamas by the time Jungwoo was done, lying on his stomach with his nose practically glued to his phone screen. Jungwoo tried to look over his shoulder from time to time as he changed from his robe into pajama bottoms and a sleep shirt. Taeyong didn’t look up once. Okay. Well.

Contrary to what most would assume, when it really came down to it, Jungwoo didn’t have any  _ moves _ . He was kind of hoping things would just fall into place or that Taeyong would get give him any form of affirmation. Would it be too much to ask that Taeyong be overcome with whatever demon possessed him each time they had more eyes on them?

Jungwoo crawled into the vacant double bed. He tried to get comfortable, punching the pillow a few times until his neck rested on it just right. He held his phone up over his face and barely made it past the second notification when Taeyong was suddenly by his side, taking his slippers off before climbing into bed with him, replacing Jungwoo’s view with his own phone. 

“Look at this,” he said, voice low and mildly hoarse from performances and answering questions all day. He showed Jungwoo a video of a mallard swimming in a pond. “It looks so calm on the surface but underneath you can see its legs paddling frantically just to keep itself afloat.”

Jungwoo observed the mallard with his lips jutted out, not because he was curious but because it was a mannerism he developed as a kid to feign interest. He’d lost track of what actually interested him at this point. “Cute.”

It wasn’t so much the mallard that was cute -- no offense to the mallard community of course -- but Taeyong’s never-ending fascination with animals. Jungwoo would recall moments in dressing rooms where Taeyong would pull his phone out and show him something his mom recorded of Ruby, his dog, whether it was gnawing on something or rolling around in his old room. It was endearing. But it wasn’t sexy. Jungwoo had to keep it  _ sexy _ .

With that action plan locked, Jungwoo leaned up on his elbows and pressed his lips to Taeyong’s smile, proud when he felt Taeyong’s phone landed on his stomach, the other losing his grip as a result of Jungwoo’s unprecedented non-move move. Taeyong’s palm was cold as it rested on Jungwoo’s neck, encouraging him to follow as Taeyong rolled back slowly until he was lying on the bed and Jungwoo was working a leg over Taeyong’s hip, his hand planted on the other side of Taeyong’s torso, forming a limb cage of sorts around him. 

The kiss was soft to start, then increasingly needy in seconds. Jungwoo vaguely sensed Taeyong trying to rut his hips up, finding Jungwoo’s, but he was positioned too high up and he was worried that if he lowered himself, his knee would slip off the edge of the bed and he’d fall on Taeyong like a freshly flipped pancake. Not sexy.

“Hold on, hyung, can you--” Jungwoo talked out of the side of his mouth, still stuck to Taeyong by the lips because he didn’t want to lose that momentum. He used his knee to try and nudge Taeyong’s thighs, silently instructing him to move to the center of the bed. Taeyong understood, walking over to the spot with his elbows and ankles digging into the mattress. Jungwoo did the same, letting Taeyong lead, and the kiss had turned into them pressing their chins together, neither wanting to lose that contact.

Taeyong fell back on the bed when they were centered enough, sandwiching Jungwoo’s face in both his hands and bringing him down with him. Jungwoo’s hips were the first to fall on Taeyong’s lap as a result of his balance being compromised, and there was some miscalculation on his end when he smushed his dick against Taeyong’s pubic bone in an unpleasant way. “Ah!”

Taeyong’s brows furrowed and Jungwoo knew it was less to do with his reaction and more to do with how he probably felt that too. “Are you okay?”

“No, I think my dick’s broken,” Jungwoo whined, one hand on his crotch as his forehead found Taeyong’s shoulder.

Taeyong pressed feather-light kisses to the side of Jungwoo’s face, whispering into his ear, “Can I kiss it better?”

If Jungwoo were to be completely honest, he didn’t fully understand what that meant or what faulty medical literature Taeyong had read up on that led him to believe that this was a booboo that his lips could fix until he was the one on his back and Taeyong was between his legs, sitting back on his calves and folding over, taking Jungwoo’s dick out of his pajamas and sucking --  _ oh. Oh, wow, yeah, this could cure anything.  _

And it was fucking amazing. Jungwoo was hard in record time, which he would have been more embarrassed about if his spirit hadn’t just left his body. Jungwoo didn’t have much experience with getting his dick sucked and therefore didn’t have a preference until the night Taeyong held him by the base of his cock as he alternated between taking half of him into his mouth and sucking the tip and running his tongue up and down the sides.

He was testing everything to see what appealed most to Jungwoo, since he offered a lot of variety, but all of it in combination was enough to send Jungwoo over the edge. In Jungwoo’s mind, he lasted at least two minutes. Maybe even three. But time wasn’t as clear of a concept when Taeyong touched him like this. It did however come crashing back the moment he came and no more than seconds after, Taeyong dashed to the bathroom while pinching his nose.

Breathless, Jungwoo tugged the band of his pajama bottoms back up and raced to the bathroom door, both hands on the frame. “Hyung? Hyung, what happened?”

His answer was muffled by the wood and the echo of running water.

“What?”

It took a few beats, and Jungwoo guessed that Taeyong moved closer to the door when he spoke a second time. “It got in my nose.”

Jungwoo’s jaw dropped. “My dick?”

“No, you idiot!” Taeyong slapped the door from the other side. “Your load.”

“Oh.” Jungwoo cringed and repeated, “ _ oh _ .” He looked down at his crotch as though a pet owner reprimanding it’s puppy. Then he touched the door, a little mortified. “Is it a lot?”

He heard harsh breath sound and then a spit. “Kind of.”

_ Shit _ . “Can I help?”

Jungwoo put his ear to the door and winced at the sounds of Taeyong blowing his nose. Jungwoo wanted to die. “It’s fine, Jungwoo. I got it.”

If Taeyong were to let him in, Jungwoo wouldn’t even know what to do. He’d probably just stand there dumbly with towels in his hands, looking panicked and helpless and truthfully Jungwoo didn’t blame him for not wanting that around him at the moment. He did however wished that he could at least get in there and clean himself up too, since he was moist between the thighs with a cocktail of spit and come. The problem was that he couldn’t think of a way to phrase that question without sounding like a total dickhead.

Jungwoo scanned the room and his mouth formed into an O at the tissue box by the vanity. After wiping himself down in front of the mirror, he went back to bed and patted the sheets down along the sides of his body, hands folded over one another on his stomach. The events that had just transpired played like a movie shot from an 8mm, projected onto the ceiling. Except the pictures went black when it switched to Taeyong’s mouth on him. He realized that he had missed the opportunity to watch Taeyong, leaving a space in his memory that he’d probably never be able to fill after tonight. Additionally, perhaps it would have helped his aim too, if he had just looked down there every few seconds? 

He recalled stories from Jaehyun and Johnny about the girls they had slept with, saying that the best ones asked for it in on their tongues. Jungwoo didn’t even know where Taeyong wanted it. But he was  _ almost certain _ that it wasn’t up his nose.Jungwoo snatched his pillow from under his head, covered his face with it and screamed. 

Twenty minutes had passed and Taeyong was still in the bathroom. He turned the shower on some time ago, but it felt like a cover up. Jungwoo had written down a text in his notepad app that he’d erased and retyped so many times. The only part that he didn’t alter was how sorry he was. He did however rethink the whole joke about getting Taeyong pregnant. In the end, Jungwoo decided that he wasn’t funny enough to pull that off. 

When the shower cut off, all of Jungwoo’s instincts led him to pull the covers over his head and turn away from the bathroom, evening out his breathing, eyes glued shut. He heard Taeyong pad over to the cabinet, pulling a door open, the hangers clanging together, then seconds later, he was climbing into his own bed, switching all of the lights off before sinking under covers, nothing but a bean-shaped blob in partial darkness.

Jungwoo kept his eyes on him the entire night until he finally fell asleep. 

\--

To say that Jungwoo could sometimes get stuck in his own head was an understatement.

The mental gymnastics he’d bend and stretch his logic to were fucking ridiculous. For example, the morning after The Night He Nearly Killed Taeyong with His Load, as he so torturously labelled it in his head, was now stapled in his internal calendar, before Christmas. Taeyong woke him up at five in the morning, which fair, wasn’t the most unusual. But also, it was. He couldn’t figure out what it was, couldn’t find the loose thread to pull at, but that well had a bottom that Jungwoo was going to get to the bottom of. 

“Do you wanna shower first?” Taeyong had asked midway through calling the rest of the members through the hotel phone, hand on the speaker. 

Jungwoo shook his hair in place ineffectively, the strands sticking out from warmth and left over grease from his week-long venture into a shampoo-less existence, post-bleaching. He resisted the urge to sniff his pillow out of curiosity and zombie-d his way into the bathroom. 

Then he came back out because he forgot to grab the soap he preferred to use, as recommended by his mom. Except Taeyong was already in the process of handing it to him. He was really good with noticing that stuff.

\--

Even when it started, which was about six-- no, seven. It was definitely seven months ago, it was Taeyong who made the first move. 

They were inside the recording studio. Jungwoo had been the only member assigned to that day so he and Taeyong worked on his parts for the album, mulling over playbacks and layering a combination of bass and melody until it was to his liking. Taeyong had been working on production for a while and some days, like that one, he was left to his own devices which he clearly preferred. 

Jungwoo hadn’t slept all that well the night prior and was having trouble grasping exactly what it was that Taeyong wanted from him. He tried it this way and that, even in a key that he wouldn’t have recommended for himself because it didn’t suit him. And none of them worked. And Taeyong wouldn’t fucking listen to him. 

Taeyong slammed the headphones on the board -- which made Jungwoo wince because they were dealing with millions worth of equipment -- and marched into the recording booth. And they just yelled at each other. 

Jungwoo had been in arguments before, but he rarely raised his voice, and always ended up being the first to concede or apologize because none of it ever mattered to him in the end. Then again, he had never been talked to the way Taeyong was talking to him, asking him if he had any comprehension skills, if he could try for once to understand what he was saying. When Jungwoo started tearing up, Taeyong softened without a moment’s notice, hand on Jungwoo’s nape and pulling him into a hug.

“I shouldn’t have said that. Hyung was wrong,” Taeyong said, in the most heartbreaking voice as he rubbed the length of Jungwoo’s back. It only succeeded in making Jungwoo cry harder.

He apologized again later that night before letting Jungwoo into the dorm first. Jungwoo remembered Taeyong’s hand, all warm and calloused as it wrapped around his wrist. He remembered commenting on that some time later and Taeyong explained that he was proud of how rough his hands are. It showed how much he did around the house for his family, in the practice room -- it spoke volumes about his hard work. 

Of the details that he’d collected about the members, Taeyong’s rough hands were his favorite. It just broke a lot of Jungwoo’s misconceptions because Taeyong was rough  _ everywhere _ . Like he moved with an immeasurable amount of passion and energy, he went at things he wanted with 110% of his being, his physicality was all angles, from his cheekbones to the clean lines of his leg muscles, but on the inside he was nothing like stone? He doodled on clothes, he loved color in his wardrobe, he collected plushies and house plants, cowered at the presence of cockroaches, he fell asleep to videos of fucking mallards, and when he smiled, his chiseled features rounded into a marshmallow.

He kissed the side of Jungwoo’s face and that was what started it all really. That and the fact that Taeyong had to stand on his tip toes for better leverage. That was a new detail to his collection, next to Jungwoo turning his face and Taeyong finding his lips with his own in a way that was almost too natural. Have you ever kissed someone for the first time and your first thought is why haven’t we done this before?

They didn’t revisit that until a couple more months, and then another month, and then for three months straight they started fucking with each other. Jungwoo likened it to an open wound that they kept picking at right before it healed.

Fastforward to the present, they’ve moved on from Japan to the US and Taeyong hadn’t so much as spoken two words to him in 30 hours. Not that Jungwoo was counting that intently. It might have been longer.

They had rehearsals later that night and they arrived early at the venue. Jungwoo took to the snack area and joined the group armed with a big bag of Bugles, listening as they director and PA talked them through the stage and where the cameras were going to be moving around them. Johnny was in the middle of some explanation or other that Jungwoo barely caught because he was talking too quickly, when Taeyong moved to Jungwoo’s side and opened his mouth.

Jungwoo fed him a chip and Taeyong shook his shoulders as he chewed. They were back to normal. Maybe this time they were going to leave the wound alone to--

Jungwoo didn’t even realize that Taeyong’s hand was under his jacket until he felt him fiddling with his belt loops. The thing was Taeyong didn’t even look at him as he did it. His expression remained neutral, nodding at Johnny looking to him for affirmation about the lights. And if Jungwoo breathed any faster he’d probably pass out.  _ Like the mallards, _ Jungwoo thought. He was doing that thing where he kept himself afloat like it was nothing, but beneath the surface, Taeyong’s hands worked paralyzing electricity up his spine.

\--

The red carpet portion of events, no matter what part of the world, were the worst. But the least painful one would be America since Johnny and Mark -- Jaehyun on occasion -- took the reins of every red carpet interview on account of the language barrier. Johnny, from before, had noticed how Jungwoo was actually a fast learner when it came to languages, even went as far as mentioning it in one of their previous interviews. Jungwoo came up to him afterwards and asked that he never repeat that again, blanketing his statement with a joke about how it didn’t fit his image. Johnny was smart enough to realize that it was bullshit, but he did as Jungwoo asked.

It was just that even in Korean, small talk was torturous. On top of that, you get yelled at for half an hour by hundreds of girls and have to pretend that you didn’t just hear a comment from the crowd about how you didn’t earn your spot in the industry. Mark once told him that if he trained himself, he’d be able to drown the rest out and focus on what mattered. Jungwoo had yet to master that. In the meantime, he was the one being drowned out in bright flashes and awkward two minute interviews. 

They were walking past the fans that were leaning out of the barrier, a couple of suits at a safe distance watching over them, when one of the girls at the front called out to Jungwoo specifically, holding her phone up that already had the camera app open. Her cheeks were flushed like she’d been standing in the cold all day. Jungwoo couldn’t find it in his heart to say no to that. He’d been standing and walking around for barely an hour and he was pretty much ready to give up. That girl deserved a trophy. 

So he walked over to the fan and took her phone, trying to get a good picture using the selfie cam. He took five consecutive shots, which the fan was grateful for, and only then did it register on him that the rest of the fans were laughing at something behind him. He turned around, curious, and found Taeyong posing with a peace sign pressed to his cheek, no more than a few inches behind him, laughing as he linked arms with Jungwoo and walked them back to the carpet while waving goodbye to the fans. 

“Did you get in that picture with me, hyung?”

“I think so.”

“You’re such a dork.”

The last interviewer had a whole kiosk on the red carpet, it looked like. And on the TV where the camera’s feed was playing, Jungwoo saw himself and Taeyong stood by the side of the members, hands in their pockets, nodding at the interviewer as she asked them, for the umpteenth time, what the difference was between American fans and fans back home. 

Taeyong’s platinum blond head of hair hit right below Jungwoo’s ear, and he went even lower when he had one leg sticking out, hip to the side, head tilted. He smiled when Taeyong managed to locate his gaze on the monitor, deciding to stand up straight, then lean up on his toes to somehow even out their heights. Taeyong hit him on the shoulder when he bent his knees as a response.

And then Jungwoo reverted to his earlier thought that yeah, maybe it really was better this way. They had been in limbo for so long that Jungwoo forgot what it was like to just be around each other, like the ease of it and the absence of any kind of fuckery that would lead one to blow semen up the other’s nose. He was never going to forgive himself for that. But maybe there was a way for them to get back from it. 

\--

Jaehyun’s text reply arrived while Jungwoo was half lying in his hotel bed, torso draped off the side of it. He kicked his way down to the carpet, and once he was done regretting that decision, he told Yuta he’d be back in a second before leaving the room. That was how he ran into Taeyong in the corridor.

Taeyong was coming from one end of the hall, stuffing his phone into his back pocket, nearly missing Jungwoo when they crossed paths had Jungwoo not poked him on the cheek. Taeyong whirled around and stopped in his tracks, corners of his mouth curled beautifully at Jungwoo. “What are you doing?”

Jungwoo pointed at the end of the hall where Taeyong had just come from. “I need something from Jaehyun hyung.”

“Oh.” Taeyong did that thing where he reached for his right bicep with his left hand, from behind his back. You have to be especially flexible or have long arms or a narrow back to do that comfortably. “Cool.”

“You?”

“I don’t need anything from Jaehyun.”

“No,” Jungwoo matched Taeyong’s calm laugh with a polite one. “Why are you out here, hyung?”

“I just called my sister.”

“Ah. How is she?”

“Good. They’re all good.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Jungwoo hit his small talk quota for the day. He was shit to begin with, even worse when he was running on empty. But he, well,  _ he really missed Taeyong _ . And Jungwoo could try to convince himself that it was like a friendly kind of  _ hey buddy, I miss you _ thing. But they had spent every waking moment together on tour for the past few weeks, and there was no space in Jungwoo’s surroundings that Taeyong hadn’t occupied. You can’t miss someone that’s always around, can you? 

Taeyong was at a safe distance, still dressed in the shirt he wore today, sleeves rolled and tucked at the arm holes, baggy army pants secured at his hips by a black belt. Jungwoo must have let his stare roam over Taeyong with very little care because by the time he was looking at his face, Taeyong was pink in the cheeks, brows meeting at the center of his forehead as he let an open mouth smile take over his expression. 

Taeyong sunk his hands into his pants pockets and the band slid just enough that you could see the gray lining of his boxer briefs. “Jungwoo, you know we can’t.”

Jungwoo licked his lips, shifting his weight from his left leg to his right. He felt pitiful and warm all over. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean not tonight.”

Jungwoo smiled eagerly at that. “When?”

“Saturday?”

“That’s like three days from now.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong laughed lightly at Jungwoo’s tone. “I have to prep, for fuck’s sake.”

“Prep? For three days?”

“You sound dubious.”

“Wah, I mean, what about you requires a three day prep?” Jungwoo gestured at him. “Look at you.”

Taeyong’s laugh sounded a lot like something deflating, which wasn’t the most appealing description, but it was fairly accurate. And Jungwoo liked it a lot. 

“Have you ever…?”

Jungwoo planted his palm on the wall and leaned his weight against it. And Taeyong didn’t seem all that surprised by the fact that Jungwoo stalled before answering, or that he ultimately said no in the end.

“Okay, well, you can trust hyung on this then.”

Jungwoo made a face like he didn’t trust him at all, which effectively got a shy chuckle from Taeyong. Later that night, as he played rain sounds on Jaehyun’s speakers to help him sleep, Jungwoo looked up what prepping would entail for gay sex. 

\--

**Jungwoo-yah~ <3 6:13 am**

Hyungie, I googled the prep stuff. It’s wild.

**My Taeyong Hyung 6:14 am**

Hahaha so you get it now?

**Jungwoo-yah~ <3 6:15 am**

I get it.

Can I help?

**Jungwoo-yah~ <3 6:19 am**

Hyung?

**My Taeyong Hyung 6:21 am**

I’m in make up

That’s pretty kinky

**Jungwoo-yah~ <3 6:21 am**

Really? Am I kinky?

**My Taeyong Hyung 6:25 am**

How would u even help?

**Jungwoo-yah~ <3 6:25 am**

Can I help you stretch on Saturday?

**My Taeyong Hyung 6:29 am**

That can be arranged

Just as well. You’re a lot bigger than I expected

**Jungwoo-yah~ <3 6:30 am**

Thank you?

**My Taeyong Hyung 6:33 am**

Jsyk, we’re talking about my ass

Not my nose

I know how much you enjoy one of those over the other

**Jungwoo-yah~ <3 6:33 am**

Hyuuuuuuung

\--

For Jungwoo, all three days were one blob and there was only Saturday. 

What he was surprised by was how shy he got around Taeyong. Suddenly, meeting Taeyong’s gaze was a tall order and he couldn’t complete any sentences under his supervision. Jungwoo was  _ stressed _ . It showed in his snacking, which spiked five meals to nine in a day. When Yuta noticed and asked him what was wrong and all Jungwoo could do was pout, Yuta bought him an extra bag of squid chips. 

But then Saturday morning rolled around and Jungwoo couldn’t keep his hands off Taeyong, finding every excuse to sit next to him or touch him, whether it was his hair or his neck or clinging to the crook of his elbow. Taeyong noticed too, and as a response would call him honey and ask him to stop, but only in a way that sounded like  _ keep going _ . 

Saturday wasn’t too bad to begin with since they just had the one performance that night and the reality show for Korea to take care of. Jungwoo enjoyed the reality shows. Even with the cameras, they were essentially just walking around cities they’d never been to before, like tourists. 

He shared a GoPro with Taeyong and tried holding his hand while they were walking down the sidewalk in front of the Empire State building, and Taeyong only really shoved his hand away two out of five times, which was a win. Even when he gave Jungwoo a look to calm himself, he always did so with a small smile. Jungwoo didn’t get it either. He knew he liked Taeyong well enough and that could have been it, but there was something else there too. Maybe it was the fact that it  _ was  _ Taeyong and him, that it was  _ them _ . That they’d known each other for so long that you would think that there was nothing left to hide. But then they were getting to know each other again like a movie you were vaguely fond of but on the second watch, you see things that you could have sworn weren’t there before. Taeyong was a totally different movie.

It wasn’t Taeyong that changed. He did the same shit. When something caught Jungwoo’s eyes as they walk past a food stall, Taeyong would take notice and ask if he wanted it. That he’d buy it for him. 

Jungwoo nodded and pointed at the green matcha churros on the poster, and Taeyong was quick to read it out loud to the vendor, passing the camera to Jungwoo so that he could reach into his pockets and pay. While Jungwoo was busy practicing saying  _ churro  _ to the camera -- he thought it would look good in the edit, if they put graphics over it and some sound effects -- Taeyong tucked his wallet back into his back pocket and watched the screen, scrunching his nose up.

Jungwoo positioned the camera so that it was just Taeyong in the center. 

“Hyung, you don’t want one?”

“I can’t.”

“You’re on a diet?”

Taeyong squinted, a hand on his own stomach as he nodded slowly. If you looked any closer, you’d notice his cheeks getting red under the layer of foundation. “Sort of?”

Or so Jungwoo would suspect, since he thought it would be safe to assume that his cheeks were doing the same thing. “Ah.”

“Ah,” Taeyong mimicked, laughing and pretending to be interested in the rest of the posters around the food truck.

He liked that too, when they echoed each others words, saying the same thing, but it was something else entirely. 

\--

“Can I see it?”

Taeyong was standing by the vanity, unclasping his wrist watch, when he heard Jungwoo, who was digging his way out of the blankets of his bed. How he managed to drown so quickly under the covers when they’d just arrived some minutes ago was both endearing and really fucking dumb. 

“Yeah,” Taeyong said to Jungwoo’s reflection. “Come here.”

Jungwoo crawled out of bed, still tipsy from their dinner earlier that night. He stopped behind Taeyong, chin on his shoulder, looking up at him through his lashes. Taeyong smelled a little like sweat from his hair, laced with the perfume he spritzed every few hours throughout the day. His eyes roamed to where Jungwoo had his hands on his waist, fingers drumming around the belt. Taeyong nodded, pressing his lips together.

Jungwoo’s hands were shaking from both nervousness and excitement. His hands slid forward and for a few seconds, the metal and leather from belt buckle to zipper was deafening. He could have taken his time maybe, pushed his pants down first before the underwear. But this was seven -- maybe eight -- months in the making, and Jungwoo felt out of his element and a little drunk, a combination that offered him very little patience apparently. So he hooked his thumbs on both the pants and the garter of his underwear, tugging both down while Taeyong helped by shimmying his hips.

Taeyong covered his dick with both his hands as he stepped out of his pants so that Jungwoo could kick it to the side. He expected Jungwoo to go on his knees, preparing himself for the excitement and slight embarrassment that came with having someone at that proximity to his ass. Instead, Jungwoo stayed where he was, dipping a hand between his ass cheeks until he could feel the rubber end of the toy. 

Jungwoo’s jaw dropped, like he didn’t expect to find anything there at all. When Taeyong laughed, his insides tensed, feeling the toy more intensely since Jungwoo was also kind of pushing it without meaning to. 

“Does it hurt?”

Taeyong was leaning his shoulders against Jungwoo’s chest, watching the both of them from the mirror, and though his eyes were lidded and glazed over, the corners of his lips were turned up slightly. "Not anymore." 

“Did you have this on all day?”

“For the last two, yeah.”

“Really?”

Taeyong reached behind him to cup Jungwoo through his pants, pleased by the way he let out a shaky breath onto the shell of his ear when he made contact. “If I don’t, you might tear it.”

He didn’t want to hurt Taeyong, but when he said stuff like that, it made it difficult to tell right from wrong. He moved his hips in Taeyong’s hand, and in turn experimentally pulled on the plug by the base, just to see what reaction he’d elicit. Taeyong turned his head so his cheek was pressed to Jungwoo’s chest, both hands going limp. He was so sensitive. Maybe Jungwoo would be too if he had something up his ass. 

Jungwoo’s instructions were doled out through his touches, like when he wanted Taeyong to face him so he turned him around, and Taeyong moved obediently, arms locking around Jungwoo’s neck. He did hiss when Jungwoo lifted him up to sit on the vanity, the landing a little sloppy. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled into the kiss, Taeyong responding a quick, “It’s fine,” before pulling him back in. 

And it was moments like that that exceeded Jungwoo’s expectations for that night. Sure, the bar wasn’t that high to begin with what with how last time turned out and also because he sort of doubted if Taeyong even wanted him after the whole thing, but he didn’t think it was this good. Just the chemistry of it all, like how they listened to each other and molded into each other’s hands. How when one pushed, the other gave in without resistance. 

When Jungwoo touched his tongue to Taeyong's, Taeyong moaned into the kiss, parting from it with a soft chuckle while Jungwoo continued the kiss down Taeyong's neck, whispering  _ what what what _ after each peck. 

"You taste kind of sweet," he said, raking his fingers through the hairs on the back of Jungwoo's head, the strands coming apart with the snap of Loreal hairspray from that morning. 

"Oh," Jungwoo leaned up just go touch the tip of his nose to Taeyong's. "I mixed rootbeer in with whiskey." Then he added, "it's really good," when Taeyong supplied him with a full on cringe. 

"No, I agree," Taeyong searched Jungwoo's face, though his tone remained flat, "you're totally a man of refined tastes." 

\--

The first time Jungwoo came that night, Taeyong didn't even touch him. His hyung has the side of his face glued to the bed, ass in the air. Jungwoo sat behind him as he did exactly as Taeyong instructed. Taeyong had shed all of his clothes at that point, nippes turned into small nubs from the cold, goose pimples lining the small of his back and some parts of his thighs. They had a whole discussion earlier about lube and Jungwoo, thankfully, took every detail to heart. 

The way Taeyong's hole puckered up, all red and sensitive by the time Jungwoo removed the toy, seeing it for the time, was… odd? Not bad, just different. Jungwoo couldn’t fully wrap his mind around it, about all of it, but he didn’t hate it. 

"How does it look?" Taeyong asked, his ass wiggling when he moved his hands to rest up by his head. Jungwoo would have laughed but he suspected that Taeyong didn't do it on purpose. 

"Swollen?" Jungwoo got up on his knees, hovering over Taeyong to stamp sloppy little kisses along the space between his shoulder blades. 

"But it's a bit more… Open, right? 

Jungwoo crawled back to inspect and Taeyong nearly regretted asking when his warmth left his back. He sucked air in through his teeth as Jungwoo, without warning, layered his hands on either of Taeyong's ass cheeks, thumbs pressing the area on the sides of his hole, and spread him apart. 

For one, the feel of the stretch and being so empty had Taeyong weak in the knees. Second was how perfectly his ass just fit into Jungwoo's sizeable hands. Taeyong's hands slid forward, more on instinct, until they disappeared under the mound of pillows by the headboard. 

Jungwoo, in all of this, still had his jeans on. They were the tight kind today, that had his erection straining from the fit, but it wasn't wholly unpleasant. In fact, if he were to rut his hips against the side of Taeyong's thigh at the same time the both of his cherry-lube-slicked fingers disappeared into Taeyong, he would say that was pretty fucking mindblowing. 

He didn't need too long to come, certainly not enough for Taeyong's skin to chafe, but enough for him to realize what was going on back there. He felt Taeyong's half laugh, half moan, when his fingers had gone slack inside him, curving into hook as Jungwoo’s orgasm simmered and soon reached every inch of his body, his bones betraying him and leaving him to hunch over Taeyong's back the whole way through. 

And Taeyong had a fucking field day with that one, minutes later, when Jungwoo had plopped on the bed next to him, trying to catch his breath. 

He was nice enough to peel Jungwoo's pants off for him, even when he wasn't much help, limbs heavy and graceless as they fell back on the bed. The sounds of water splashing around in the bathroom didn't register on Jungwoo until some moments after. He leaned up on his elbows, glaring curiously at the bathroom door that had been left ajar. 

"Hyung?" 

"Yeah?" Taeyong called from inside the bathroom. 

"Are you…  _ Washing _ my jeans?" 

A pause. Then the water shut off and soon after, Taeyong appeared from the doorway, drying his hands off with a hand towel that he hung on the back of a chair once he was done. 

"I tried." Taeyong crawled back into the space beside Jungwoo, lying on his stomach, and without missing a beat Jungwoo rolled to his side, leg going over Taeyong, thigh pressed to the small of Taeyong's back, locking him there. "It's ruined though." 

"Thanks for tryi-- ow!"

Taeyong's sudden attack came in the form of a cheek-pinch with a death grip and a slight tug. "When are you  _ actually  _ going to fuck me, huh?" 

"Wha-- tonight!" 

"Really? Because so far, all of my other body parts have won your attention except for my ass." 

Jungwoo grabbed a cheek and squeezed once Taeyong let up. "Is this not attention?" 

"You could do a lot better. You know we had mexican for lunch today. And I skipped." 

Jungwoo nodded solemnly at that. "I saw. I thought you were sick. Or had gone crazy." 

"No," Taeyong shook his head, struggling to keep a straight face as he continued, "I just really wanted you to lay it on me." 

Just to egg him on, Jungwoo provided unhelpfully, "there were quesadillas, too." 

"I  _ love  _ quesadillas," Taeyong admitted, voice sounding like it was being pulled from the depths of his soul. 

Jungwoo swiped Taeyong's fringe to the side, for added drama. "I know."

"I skipped for  _ you _ ." 

Jungwoo snorted. 

"Technically, I did!" 

"I know, hyung. It's super romantic."

\--

Then there was the time Taeyong fell off the bed. 

Jungwoo didn't know how much time had gone by, the only thing on his mind being the way Taeyong sounded, how needy he had become, the warmth of him around Jungwoo's cock and how it felt when he'd say something stupid in between and Taeyong would laugh. 

Throughout most of the night, they were fairly communicative, which Jungwoo really liked about Taeyong. It wasn’t just that he told Jungwoo what to do, it was that he was so transparent about what he liked. Although, Jungwoo's chest did swell with pride whenever he guessed something right without his hyung's prior instruction. 

For instance, at a certain point during sex, Taeyong was sensitive all over. Like a light breeze could make him curl into a ball. But you'd have to get him there by overworking his body, which Jungwoo learned Taeyong liked a lot. And to Jungwoo's delight, he also found out for himself that he quite enjoyed taking his time with Taeyong, not giving him what he wanted right away. 

Anyway, this was why when Taeyong came in the middle of Jungwoo fucking him -- and this was nearly an hour after they worked at simply getting the head of Jungwoo's cock in -- he frankly just didn't notice at first. Jungwoo was also on the brink of his third orgasm that night, eyes screwed shut, grip bruising while he pushed Taeyong's ass up. Jungwoo also learned that Taeyong was really fucking loud. His moans were guttural, accenting the slaps of skin, the bed creaks, Jungwoo's occasional  _ hyung _ . 

Taeyong was loud except for when he actually came. Had Jungwoo known that beforehand, he would have eased up on him. Because Taeyong also turned into jelly, his entire body going limp, overrun by pleasure. He lost his grip somewhere in there and both his hands slid off the side of the bed. He managed to break the fall with his palms on the carpet, and thankfully the bed was high enough that face planting from his position was near impossible. 

"No, no, no, keep going," Taeyong was breathless, desperate almost when Jungwoo paused. 

He just wanted to make sure that Taeyong was okay, but he had no intention of stopping. Especially since the new angle had Jungwoo's mind reeling. 

This was what he explained to Taeyong later, as the elder taught him how to knot his used condom before throwing it in the trash. 

"You couldn't feel me coming?" Taeyong asked. 

Jungwoo, who stayed in bed, watching the condom get chucked into the bin, shook his head. 

"Whatever," Taeyong said, getting under the covers with him. "It was still pretty good." 

"Quesadillas-skipping good?" 

"I wouldn't go that far." 

\--

Sunday was a quick descent from Saturday, a day of packing a preparations for their flight back to Korea. 

And for the record, Jungwoo was the one who voluntarily opened up his notepad app and showed Taeyong the graveyard of his unsent drafts. So really, did he have a right to feel regret?

He felt it anyway, especially during the part where his lovingly idiotic hyung did a dramatic reading of that one text where he described the many ways in which he would “wreck” him. Jungwoo wanted hell to open up and swallow him whole, but he refused to lose to the situation, instead opting to nod solemnly at each line in spite of his blood collecting in his throat. Yup, he wrote that. He fucking wrote that.

He continued to fold his clothes neatly into his suitcase. Taeyong of course, was done an hour ago, and spent the rest of his time going through the text messages that were meant for him on Jungwoo’s phone. At times he’d fall silent, just reading through months worth of Jungwoo’s thought process.

“This one’s nice,” Taeyong said.

It was the sincerity in his voice that caught Jungwoo off guard. He didn’t remember writing anything that could have been described as nice. He paused, mid-fold, directing his attention at Taeyong who was sat on the bed with his legs crossed. Taeyong pointed at the screen as he read out loud, “That joke you said earlier at lunch was pretty funny. I don’t know why the others didn’t laugh.”

Jungwoo’s looked baffled when Taeyong met his eyes. 

“What joke was that?”

Jungwoo racked his brain for a moment, though it was useless. “I don’t remember.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong nodded, dusting his shoulders. “Hard to remember because hyung is so funny, huh?”

“So funny,” Jungwoo agreed.

“The funniest?”

“Sure.” Jungwoo was the funniest, if they were going to be real. But whatever.

Minutes before they had to leave, Taeyong ran to the bathroom and came back out with something in a plastic bag. Jungwoo was about to ask what it was when it dawned on him that yes of course, it only had to be his pants and underwear that contained the evidence from the night prior.

“We can burn it in Korea. It can be our first date.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote parts of this on my phone, ala-[linnhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linnhe/pseuds/linnhe) and honestly, what a fucking journey. 
> 
> send me comments, it makes my day uwu


End file.
